Shiver
by Mrs Don Draper
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: Tumblr Prompt: How about something where Silva was the one in the casino, and he seduced Bond instead of Severine. Silva/Bond


Bond turns around with what feels looks to be four million pounds in the suitcase they hand him. That should cover any damages the Prime Minister feels they need to cover, as well as leaving some left over for him to spend on his unexpected accomplice tonight. He turns to walk towards the bar when a man dressed in a cream-colored suit with platinum blond hair approaches him with a predator's grin.

"Ah, I have been waiting to see who would be the lucky person to cash in that chip. I wasn't expecting someone as handsome as you, Mister...?"

"Bond. James Bond," he says, offering his hand. "And you are?"

Instead of taking his hand, the mystery man puts his arm around his waist and leads him the rest of the way to the bar. He pulls out James' seat before sitting down himself.

"You can call me Silva."

"Alright, Mr. Silva. Why don't we get right down to it and tell me why you were waiting for me in the first place."

Silva laughs.

"James, James, can we not enjoy a drink first? Some pleasure before business is good, no?"

The bartender comes over when Silva beckons her.

"Your best Scotch please. And my friend here will have—"

"—A vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred. Thick slice of lemon peel as well. Thank you."

The woman acknowledges their orders with a nod and goes about preparing them as they asked, giving the two gentlemen some time to converse while they wait.

"Why were you waiting for me?" James asks again.

Silva sighs. "You really cut right to the chase, don't you? Ah well, time for pleasure later, hmm?"

James ignores the leer that accompanies his words and waits for him to continue. Their drinks arrive and he takes a large swallow of his own. He doesn't trust this man one bit. Nor does he trust the body guards that have been watching him since the suitcase of cash entered his hands.

"I was waiting to see who brought in the chip because doing so would tell me that the man I set out to kill had been killed. Apparently my own hitman was taken out by someone else. My woman, Severine, told me to look for a man with startling blue eyes. She told me she could see them shine even a building over. And as soon as I saw you with the suitcase, I knew you were the man. I knew you were the man who had out-smarted my second and made my lady soak her panties with just a look."

James finishes his drink before responding.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"I want you to join me. I could use a man like you. I value your skills, your determination, your looks. We would make quite the unstoppable pair."

As he says this, a hand creeps up his knee until it sits at the top of his thigh. James does little more than straighten up in his seat.

"And what's in it for me? Why should I join you?"

Silva leans in very close, his lips almost touching his ear, "Because we could stop Her. Together, the harpy running MI6 will meet her end. _After all she has done to us, James_...Think on it."

Silva pulls back and plasters a smile across his face that would fool anyone who wasn't looking too closely. James suppresses a shiver and waits for further direction, either from his mystery partner or from the strange man before him. With his ear piece gone though, he has little choice but to obey when the man says, "Follow me," and dismisses his guards.

From the casino, he is led back to the canoes to a car with tinted windows and then to a yacht docked in the harbor. It's quite grand on the inside. Below deck is a shower, kitchenette, a rather large bed, chairs, and a table upon which sits a sweating bottle of champagne and two fine crystal glasses. It is obvious that no expense had been spared in its crafting.

They have barely settled down below when the engines begin revving up, and he lurches a bit at the sudden, unexpected motion.

"Where are we going?"

"All in good time, James. All in good time. For now, let us relax. We won't be getting to our destination until tomorrow afternoon. Let us enjoy ourselves now, yes?"

Without waiting for James' response, Silva begins undressing himself, meticulously folding each item of clothing removed, setting it aside and out of harms way. So this is really happening. Wonderful. James allows himself a moment more of hesitation before following suit. He is careful to ensure his tracking device is tucked out of sight before draping his clothes over a chair and watching Silva settle on bed. It's covered in thick blankets, which James is sure was intended to keep out the chill from the sea. His body is already covered in goose bumps. Though whether from a chill or from the way Silva is eying him, he could not say for sure.

"Darling, you're shivering. Come join me, and we can warm each other up."

The accompanying grin is completely unnecessary as far as he is concerned. He's already naked. There's no point. James sighs at the futility of the situation and climbs under the covers next to the man. Seeing his body up close, James sees maps upon maps of scars covering his body. They are faded, which explain why he didn't see them in the dim light while the man was undressing, but now he can see that they are everywhere. It served to add another layer to the enigma behind this man.

"Ah, so you've noticed. I knew you would. I repulse most people when they look at my true self. I will not force you to engage in sexual congress if you do not wish to now that you see me."

The way Silva says this tells James that there is a good amount of truth behind his statement. Sincerity is not something that can be faked. He would know. There is something about his genuine confession that puts a grain of pity into his conscience. No, the man will not force himself upon him, but sleeping with him will give put an element of trust on his side. He puts the thought of sympathy and understanding from his mind and leans over to kiss Silva on the mouth. He still has a job to do. When he pulls back to look into Silva's eyes, he sees a brief flash of something—perhaps regret, perhaps not—that is there and gone. Silva turns to reverse their positions and puts James flat on his back.

Silva kisses his mouth and slowly makes his way down his body until he is covered by the tartan blanket as he nibbles at James' hip bones. The feeling is incredibly tantalizing and arousing to say the least. He tries not to buck up but fails immensely when Silva licks his cock. He hears a chuckle from beneath the comforter. Then, for moment, there is no more mouth or hands on him. He hears a wet sucking sound that has nothing to do with Silva blowing him, and James begins to worry. He is just about say something when he is suddenly wholly enveloped in Silva's mouth. But it feels off, wrong. He thrusts up and meets no resistance from jaw or palate. His cheek stretches out much farther than it should, which he knows should worry him, but it only makes him harder. His brain tries to make sense of what is going on, but he can come up with no viable answer. His mouth and throat is like an open, wet cavern. It feels bottomless. As if he could keep going down inside him forever. And even though his entire length is inside Silva's mouth, a rough tongue somehow manages to slip out and lick his bollocks. He grunts loudly and is glad they are out on the water so no one will hear his embarrassing noises. He thinks it's safe to bet the crew is used to this by now.

"Oh, _fuck_! How in the bloody fuck are you doing that?"

He knows Silva can't answer him. No, the man chooses instead to _hum_ around his cock. Bond knows he could wax poetic about his stamina until the cows came home, but it means shite when he's coming down Silva's throat in six minutes. The fucker swallows too. After a moment more around him, Silva pulls off, and James hears something click into place under the blanket. Silva comes out from under the blankets smoothing his hair down like this was all a big fucking game. It probably was.

He laughs again—though he has the decency to at least sound breathless—when he sees the look of shock on his bedmate's face. Silva condescendingly pats his cheek as he resumes his spot next to the agent.

"Didn't Mommy tell you it isn't polite to stare, James?"

James isn't sure how to even respond to that.

"I-Do you want me to return the favor?"

Silva looks at him, seeming to become suddenly melancholy at his offer.

"I appreciate the kind offer, James, but that will not be necessary. I am, ah, what is the word? Unable to engage in sexual congress. Impotent."

James, again, feels surprised, if not a bit sympathetic at his words.

"You didn't have to—"

Silva stops him with a raised hand.

"No, I didn't. I have to be creative in how I derive my pleasure now. Tonight, it was from hearing your sweet gasps and feeling your strength beneath my hands and tasting you as you filled my mouth. Like lemon. It sounds parasitic, I know. But I am glad you shared this with me, James. I do not often find such willing and beautiful individuals such as yourself to accompany me in my bed. Tonight, I count myself fortunate."

James is silent as he lets Silva's words sink in. He feels this profound connection to the man beside him, and he can't help himself when he grabs his hand once Silva settles himself on the pillows next to James. He almost is comforted by the fingers that tangle with his own. Something is telling him that perhaps in another life, in another time, they could have been.

But the world spins and reality and remains. This man is dangerous, he is sure of it. He's not to be trusted. He's the enemy. M is in danger. _He has a job to do_.

"I'm sorry," James murmurs long after Silva has shut his eyes in supposed sleep.

James knows the man is as awake as he himself is.

He _is _sorry though. He truly is. Sorry for the scars. Sorry for whatever M did to him that led them both to this. Sorry he came so fast. Sorry his dick doesn't work. Sorry for the battle he knows is inevitable. At least one of them is going to die. He squeezes Silva's hand tighter.

Without opening his eyes, Silva says, "Me too."

Silva squeezes back.


End file.
